Onwards with the post. I've been reading far too little lately. With all the broadband, music, TV, video games and whatnot out there these days, it's an easy habit to let slide. It's not the only medium for stories and entertainment, after all. But every medium is different, of course. One can't entirely replace another.
So I've been trying to get back into the habit, making it a daily practise, even if it's just a few pages each night before bed. I read a few of Jeff VanderMeer's Ambergris stories, and enjoyed them. After finishing one a few days ago, I thought it's time for a little variety. And I started thinking, hang on, it's been ages since I've read any really clichéd high fantasy. Indeed, I've barely touched the stuff since the 90's. (Tolkien doesn't count, of course.) After all this time, thinking back to the days of reading Dragonlance and the likes brought on a nostalgic yearning for simple, honest magical adventure.
So, semi-randomly, I picked up an unread Shannara novel (the third in the series, The Wishsong of Shannara, to be precise). I remember the first two, as clichéd as they were, being a fairly entertaining experience back in the 90's. We'll see how it fares this time.